The Price of Victory
I travelled far to cast my vote,
carrying the weight of life with me.
By evening, I watched the news
my country had built a mighty weapon.
Missiles, aircraft, fire
I felt proud of our strength.
Then I stepped into my garden.
The leaves still held
the morning's dew.
A flower still carried
the last light of the sun.
I watered the plants.
The sky roared.
Aircraft crossed it like birds,
but instead of flowers,
they dropped death.
My garden turned red.
One white flower remained,
a single drop of blood
resting on its petal.
I looked at the sky.
Who won the war?
Who lost it?
The sky stayed silent.
The earth answered in blood.
I gave my vote for my country,
and felt proud of its strength.
But when will we win
the greatest war of all
the war for a world
where a child's white flower
never carries the stain of blood?
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